


Small Courtesies

by Sookiestark



Series: Reveries at Riverrun [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:42:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Brienne thinks back to the nights spent with Sansa at Castle Black...





	Small Courtesies

Long before they crested the hill to see the siege, Brienne and Podrick Payne knew what they were riding into, certain failure with the smallest slip of success. She had thought often of what she might do in order to get into Riverrun and treat with the Blackfish. How would she get through the siege? Why would they listen to her, the oddest of creatures, a woman knight with a Lannister sword, with only her word and Pod? When they crested the hill, she had expected to see the flags, the tents, the trebuchets, the soldiers. What she hadn't expected to see was the Lord Commander, Jaime Lannister. She had felt a strange sadness at seeing him here, an unknown pain in her heart, Surely, the Seven had brought them here so that she could fulfill her oath and return her sword…., his sword that he gave her so many moons ago.

Watching him from far away, she has an urge to ride away back to the North. There is dread about facing him and returning Oathkeeper, and all the unspoken words said between them, It is a strange feeling to look at someone and know that you will never have another moment quite like this and after this passes, this person will pass on, to bigger and better things and people. She had felt that way when she had said goodbye to Lady Sansa Stark a fortnight ago. 

Brienne was lost in her thoughts. A breeze blew across her face and the chill reminded her of nights at the Wall. 

It is dark and cold at the Wall. There are a thousand steps, in order for you to find yourself in a new place. Brienne knows this, but how she has gotten to this place she can’t precisely remember the steps that led her here, with a handful of red hair and Sansa’s warm breath echoing into her neck.

Her sex had always been a liability, an absence, an apology she would need to make, an impairment that she had to prove herself better. But that is what started this journey and led to her here between her lady’s thighs. 

 

It happened almost as a courtesy to Lady Sansa when they arrived here at Castle Black. There were no ladies to help her and no Maester, so Brienne found herself the only one who might be able to assist. 

The night that they arrive, Sansa asks her to see if someone could bring a tub and some warm water to wash and Jon brings her several jars of ointments and salves. He looks angry and concerned, but he doesn’t speak to Sansa at all. He looks to Brienne and he whispers, “My sister needs your service..”

Sansa stands in front of the copper tub that is full of steaming water. Brienne wonders how much wood was spent heating the water, how many boys did it take to carry it all up the stairs, here where everything seems rationed and frugal. It seems like a small courtesy, to have a warm bath, but here where there is so little, it seems a grand gesture.  
Sansa looks troubled at both the gesture and so many more things. Sansa stumbles over her whispered words, “Maybe you could help me after I wash. I have some injuries and I could use some help.” 

“Injuries?.. Did you hurt yourself, my lady?” 

“My husband was unkind and I did not speak of it, but in our haste and quick travel, I fear some of the wounds have opened and need care..”

Brienne looks in her face and at her body as if she could see through the clothes to where the injury might be. “Of course, my Lady. I am at your service in all things.”

For modesty’s sake, Brienne turns toward the door while Sansa disrobes and listens to the sounds of her dress hitting the floor, the sound of her foot stepping into the water, the crash of her body sinking into the water. She hears the sigh of contentment and thinks it is safe to turn around for her lady’s modesty. 

“Brienne, could you hand me the soap?”

It is hard soap here at the wall, but Jon thought kindly, and it smells faintly of peppermint. The smell of the soap is familiar to her, and it is used to soften weary muscles and wounds. Sansa seems to have no care in a tub of steaming water, up to her chin. She looks young and soft in her face, but underneath the water is the image of a woman’s body.

Brienne has not been around women often in her life. She was raised by her father and his men at Evenfall. She is used to men and their nakedness, hairy, hardness and lines, tall muscles and round bellies with cocks between their legs. She is not used to women and their soft skin, curves, and legs that stretch out in mysteries. Soft sounds and gentle touch that sends deep aches down her body.. 

Brienne takes her gloves off so she can unlace the scabbard. She shouldn't have her sword with her if she is going to help Sansa out of the bath.

Sansa starts scrubbing her hair and the dirt from her nails.  
“Let me help,” Brienne says but her tongue feels strange and heavy in her mouth. She rinses the soap from Sansa’s hair, and with a small bit of oil, she rubs the tangles through with her wet fingers in the red wet mess of her hair..  
Sansa is sighing contented and Brienne feels herself smile and a quick spark of heat in her stomach. Brienne wonders how soft her skin would feel or what she could do to Sansa to get her to make that noise again. 

When Sansa is ready to emerge from the tub, Brienne holds out the towel and turns her head. Sansa takes the towel from her and says. Thank you for your assistance but I need some more help.  
Her husband, Ramsey Bolton, has whipped her and removed some of her skin on her back and belly. It is a patchwork of pink, red, gray and cream. She has knife cuts, carved into her thighs, from her knees to high up next to her sex, It is an angry red and the horse riding has not helped it heal but agitated it to a vibrant crimson, Lannister red. 

Brienne knows what happens when a horse has been mistreated. If anything can heal it, it's soft words and strong gentle touch, kind words in kind tones. She firmly rubs the balm in the cuts gently at first to see if there is any pain. Some there is and Lady Sansa flinches or makes sudden painful noises. Some is scar tissue, long numbed from pain. Using the tips of her large rough fingers, Brienne goes to work rubbing the salve on all the cuts and scars, patches of flayed skin. Then she rubs the weary muscles in her lady’s back and legs. Sansa holds herself tight, keeping all her pain and rage inside her body. This is the work Brienne knows, injuries, scars, tight muscles, aches. She did this for her father, for Renly, for Pod, and now she can do this for Lady Sansa. 

How it actually started Brienne doesn’t know. The heat was gradual, maybe it had always been there like a dam that broke from a contented moan or a sigh from Sansa. Perhaps, it had laid coiled like a serpent in Brienne, waiting to leap out and attack when she had her defenses down. However it started, there were kisses and touches and her lady’s glorious back arching like the curve of her mouth. There was want and ache. In the dark at Castle Black. 

At first, there was touching but soon touching couldn't contain the desire the rawness of need, to feel and be felt and Brienne pressed her mouth against hers in the dark. 

All was lost as the wind stirred the deep waters.

The first kiss was Brienne’s attempt at gallantry. How could she do any less? It was all thrust and fight, She had not received many kisses in her life, and all of them, besides one, had been bold attempts to woo her or to win the gold behind the snickers and the bets of boys and men that wanted Brienne the Beauty and Tarth. It was all grab and push, the struggle, the chase.

Sansa stilled her lips with a caress to her cheek and stilled her tongue with a softer kiss, deeper true. Kisses were not fights or melees that one person won and one person submitted; they were matters of courtesy- things that were gentle and sweet. Sansa was so good at kissing, but Brienne had always been a quick study. It was in her to copy and repeat, to learn from her opponent their skills and weaknesses. In a few kisses, Brienne had become skilled. 

The first time Sansa’s wet tongue breached her mouth, the warm wetness of it created a yearning, an ache to make her feel the same, to share the sweetness and the longing. Brienne tried several times. When Sansa finally moaned soft in the back of her throat from Brienne's kiss, it may have been the sweetest victory she could claim.

Sometimes in the darkness, after her lady slept, while she slept alone in her bed, she wondered who taught Sansa to kiss like that..Was it her first husband? The Imp? This had a sense of truth to it for her. After all, his knowledge of brothels was notorious. This would sometimes bring other thoughts about the other Lannister brother and how his kisses might feel. Or maybe Littlefinger, that smiling gracious man she had met? She did not like his smile or his soft careful speech, but she could see how he might have had liberties with Sansa and her innocence. 

Of course, Brienne would wonder what she herself was doing and would promise that tomorrow she would not engage in delightful abandon.. 

 

How could those small courtesies in the dark led to her growling in the soft firm breasts of her lady?

NIght after night, Brienne finds herself licking, kissing, sucking, worshipping Sansa’s body, listening to the cries, the moans, feeling the twist in her spine, the curl of her leg, the tightening of muscle….

The skin is so soft. Sansa closes her eyes and her mouth is slightly parted. Brienne puts her lips around her nipple, wets it, and pulls it lightly between her lips. The only thing she can hear is the sounds of the fire behind her. Brienne licks her lips and does it again. Sansa makes a noise full of ache that echoes within her. In the dark, there is a call and a response from their bodies. 

The first time, Brienne used her fingers and put one gently inside Sansa, she more than expected Sansa to scream out how Brienne was unnatural, untoward, a dissolute, corruptible deviant. Instead, Lady Sansa clutched her hand and begged for more, biting her lip in the firelight. Her lady would kiss her wet lips and say in a breathless whisper, ”More…”

In the beginning, Sansa would barely make any noise, just noises cut off with her fist against her mouth or the pillow. Once she rose up and sighed out a name as her body twisted and tightened. She immediately turned red and hid her face. Brienne rubbed her stomach and hushed her “it's alright my lady. It's alright. He is strong and fair. He is all the things a lady would want..”

However, Sansa must have noticed the change in Brienne’s touch, hesitant, tentative. Quickly, Sansa began whispering Brienne’s name, like a prayer or a plea. Perhaps Sansa is a warrior in her own way and has learned the strengths and weaknesses of her opponents, as well. Brienne wants to be so much more than her opponent. Brienne has never been good at words, but she is well-versed in action. She would wring out several Brienne's from Sansa’s lips, as she licked her lady into a fervor.

It becomes a ritual and it helps Sansa sleep. She doesn't ask her many questions. After all, she is busy making her lady tired, satisfied, warm in a place that is cold and bitter. They never speak of it and when Sansa is tired, Brienne gets up and goes to sleep in her room on her cot next to Pod. 

When Sansa asks her to go to Riverrun and get the Blackfish, Brienne wonders if she overstepped or that Sansa is ashamed or dishonored by their actions at night. Surely, what they do in the darkness is surely unspeakable and unsavory to a Lady of a Great House. 

Lady Sansa sees her troubled thoughts and says gently, “Of course, you will leave in the morning and will return to me with haste. I have need of your assistance and counsel.” 

The uncertainty and unsureness worry her for the rest of the day, but she is her lady’s knight and servant and finds her bedroom, as soon it is time for Sansa to take to bed. Brienne wonders absently what all this has meant, as she is sucking her faint pink nipples, so hard, Sansa squeals and clutches her head. Brienne parts her thighs with her big hands and licks her gently. 

Slowly, she slides a single finger inside her while she teases her sex. If she was born a man, would Tarth be big enough to honor Lady Sansa Stark? Would she come back with her and be her lady wife and raise her children? Probably not. Brienne feels Sansa grow wet from her labors and she fucks her with three fingers. 

Sansa is long legs spread wide across the bed and Brienne can’t get enough of the taste of her desire. She licks Sansa until her mouth aches and her tongue hurts and still, she licks her more. She hopes to imprint herself on her so that if she never returns Sansa will remember her and the gentleness with fondness and bittersweet ache. 

The sheets are wet with her and her eyes are bright. Brienne does not know if there are words to describe how beautiful Sansa is, at this moment, glowing- alive and wanting. Brienne is not well-read, but she does not think poets could capture it in words. This is the language of bodies and sweat, sinew, muscle, nerves. This is the language Brienne speaks. 

On this last night, Sansa does the forbidden and speaks, more than names or one-word commands. Sansa whispers, “I would like to touch you.”

“No, my lady.”

“Please just this once. Before you leave, this once. Please..”

“No, my lady.

“I want to make you feel good.”

Brienne needs her armor so much more tonight than the ones before it. Brienne kisses her mouth, “Not tonight….. Sansa.”

She hears Sansa moan, at the intimacy of her name from Brienne's’ lips, which means more than all this night and all the nights before tonight. There is no title before it, no lady, just her. It is a candle, in a tower, after months of silence, and a promise made over a reforged sword. 

“Will you come back to me?”

“Of course, my lady. My sword and shield are yours for as long as you will have me.” 

Sansa smiles and wraps her arms around her. “I am yours and you are mine. Come back to me.”

Brienne lays in the darkness, rubbing Sansa’s scarred yet healing back, listening to the certain sounds of Sansa sleeping. Laying here in the dark, with someone beautiful is a sweet thing, but it is a fantasy that she has let herself slip into and drown. Lady Sansa will be married again to another suitor, a man of means, a castle, a strategic match for her family. Brienne is not meant to be with her and every moment with Sansa is stolen from her future husband.

As Brienne leaves Sansa’s room, she looks back at her sleeping in the bed and closes the door. She will leave tomorrow and perhaps some time on the road will clear her mind.


End file.
